


Boyfrans

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 20:16:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/802784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas picks up calling Dean his boyfran, which absolutely will not do for Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boyfrans

**Author's Note:**

> Just a drabble that ran away a little bit. Supposedly cute and light.

Cas and Sam are dicks.  Genuine article, super annoying, pain in the nuts, dicks.  Even when Dean is kissing Cas, lips on his collarbone, sucking a bruise onto the angel's skin, he's a dick who can't keep his mouth shut and just enjoy the moment.

"Boyfran," Cas rumbles, chuckling, like the ungrateful asshole he is, and Dean is going to make sure that he never watches TV again or gets on the internet or talks to Sam.  

No, this is his angel.  His goddamn _boyfran_.

Damn it, he can't believe he just thought that stupid word and worse that he thought it in Cas' voice.

When he thinks about it, it's really all Sam's fault.  That stupid Sasquatch started it.  Dean has forgotten what he and Sam were arguing about at this point.  It’s not really high on his list of important things to remember, but Sam definitely started it.

“Yeah, right, sure, Dean,” the moose had said, rolling his eyes and giving him a really unattractive bitchface.  

“You bet that’s right,” Dean had said.  “Because I’m older.”

“What does that have to do with anything, Dean?” Sam had snapped.

“The oldest is always right!” Dean had retorted and sealed his fate.

“Actually, then,” Cas had interjected, like a big, fat jerk, “I am the oldest then.  And I happen to agree with Sam.”

Dean remembers whirling on his stupid angel.  “You don’t count, you’re my boyfriend, not my brother!”

And goddamn it, if he hadn’t been more than a few beers in and really, really annoyed, he might have realized the ammunition he threw at them, saying, “Look, Dean is a dipshit who wants to get teased endlessly.”

“Boyfran,” Cas had said in a really fucking annoying, really fucking uncharacteristically nasally Cas-voice and Sam burst into laughter.  No, Dean doesn’t get it.  He doesn’t want to get it.  When they explained it to him, a reality show about drag queens, really Samantha, he didn’t get it.  And they had no room to ever mention his small and totally justified interest in Dr. Sexy.  (It’s a good show!)

So in any case, Dean hates them both.

“If you don’t stop, _I’m_ going to stop, damn it,” Dean tells the irritating angel.  

Cas rumbles with laughter but when Dean tries to pull away, he has him by the back of the neck, gently but firmly, not up for debate, guiding their lips back together in apology.  One that Dean accepts but doesn’t think for a second that it means that Cas is forgiven for being the most annoying age-old creature Dean’s ever had to deal with.  

“I just like being your _boyfriend_ ,” Cas says when Dean pushes himself up again and he has room to talk.  He says the word correctly, thankfully, so Dean doesn’t have to bite him.  It still sounds stupid and silly and immature and insignificant.

“Cas, man, _seriously_?” Dean huffs out.

Cas, of course, frowns at him, all squinty-eyed and puzzled.  “I was under the impression that label defined our relationship,” he says and it’s just so wrong that Dean isn’t even thinking about being half-naked together, in his bed.  Which is a damn shame because it’s normally a good chunk of what he does think about during the day and it’s really a waste of a good erection and Dean definitely hates when that happens.  

“Dean?” Cas says, looking guilty for actually ruining things.

“It doesn’t, okay?” Dean says.  He tries to be calm and not snap, because he feels like stuffing his face in a pillow and rolling around like a dying fish on land more than he wants to talk about this.  “It’s a dumb word.  It doesn’t... It’s not enough, Cas, okay?  I know _I_ said it, but it’s not enough and I don’t know what else to say instead, but it doesn’t... _define_.”

“Dean,” is all Cas says, solemnly.  He sits up and, damn the bastard, runs his hand down Dean’s face like now that he completely gets the picture, Dean is the most precious thing he’s ever touched.  

“So, _no more_ ,” Dean says and it’s a plea that doesn’t sound like a plea, thank fuck for finally controlling his stupid mouth--and the rest of his face.

“Alright,” Cas agrees, head cocked to the side and eyes soft.  “No more boyfran."

And thankfully, the angel kisses him and just calls him Dean for the rest of the night.

 


End file.
